


What's Inside

by weisenbxchfelds



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Waitress, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff, I have no idea how to tag, Waitress AU, a waitress au!!, me n the gf came up with this, title will prob change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 10:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12252453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weisenbxchfelds/pseuds/weisenbxchfelds
Summary: Cordelia Nouvelle is an expert pie maker with a troubled past. Her mother died when she was sixteen, and she got married right out of high school. She doesn't think things can get any worse. Until she finds herself pregnant and having an affair with her gynecologist. Then she knows things can't get any worse.Waitress AU! I love both of these shows so much, so I thought it might be cute to put 'em together!As always, thanks to my beautiful girlfriend Maggie for beta'ing!





	What's Inside

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys!! thanks for clicking on my fic!!  
> you can find me on tumblr (for october) as @spookydrcharlotte  
> if it's not october, you can find me as @spikycharlotte  
> i hope u enjoy!!

She wakes up like she usually does: groggy as hell and with her feet cold. This morning, however, something’s off. She can’t remember why her husband isn’t next to her. Then she remembers that he’s been moved up to the first shift since Monday, so now she doesn’t have to deal with his shit when her alarm wakes him up.

Cordelia swings her feet off the side of her bed and into her slippers. The fuzziness warms her feet instantly, and she stands up and makes her way to the bathroom. She takes a long look at herself in the mirror and pokes around at her face. Cordelia stretches her face with her fingers and takes a long look at herself without all of her premature wrinkles and eye bags. She removes her hands from her face and reaches for her toothbrush, but she has to quickly duck her head into the toilet bowl to prevent her vomit from spilling out all over the sink.

It’s practically boiling. She feels like a slob: clad in dirty pajamas and her head in a dirty toilet. She coughs up what wouldn’t come up on its own and flushes. She sits upright and leans against the cool bathtub.

She’s so glad Charles isn’t here to see her like this. She still doesn’t even want to think about what all of this morning sickness means herself, and she couldn’t stand to have to tell him about her own qualms.

She takes a washcloth from the shelf and wets it with cold water from the tub faucet. She wipes her face all over and tries to get the vomit taste out of her mouth. Cordelia stands up on shaky legs and gets back to her morning routine. She brushes her teeth and combs out her hair. She puts on a nude lip gloss and some mascara, too. She’s found the patrons that find themselves in the pie diner she works in don’t care too much for a face of makeup. Her tips are much more generous on days when her makeup application is much more modest.

Her uniform, like always, is hung up in the middle of the closet. She’s got two of them that she alternates washing every day. She sees her wedding dress pushed all the way to the back of the closet. It’s not been touched since she and Charles got married around ten years ago. Right out of high school. Her mother had just died, and she needed a way out of her house with her drunk of a father. It seems she traded one drunk with another, because that’s all Charles turned out to be. He got a job at the local factory plant and she had been working at the pie diner since she was sixteen, so she just stayed.

And now she’s stuck. She’s stuck with a man who can’t love and a bun in the–

No.

She doesn’t know that she’s pregnant. She can’t be pregnant. There’s no way she’s pregnant. It was just once, and it was over a month ago. There’s no way one little slip up could have resulted in this.

But she has been throwing up every morning and peeing about ten times a day.

But that could mean anything. Maybe she has a stomach bug _and_ a UTI.

Cordelia wills her mind away from the subject and starts inventing today’s special pie in her head.

“’I’m In Deep Shit Blueberry Bacon Pie,’” she mumbles to herself. She giggles.

And with her bag on her shoulder, she leaves the house and makes her way to the bus stop.

Her bus ride today is particularly interesting. There’s a baby giving her mother a hard time near the front of the bus. The mother is shushing the child as quietly as she can, because she can feel everyone else on the bus staring at her. Cordelia wants to stand up scream at everyone for judging her so harshly. They don’t know her story; they don’t know what she’s going through to have to take her baby on the five AM bus with her.

But she doesn’t. She stays in her seat and tries to ignore everyone else on the bus. It’s pretty easy to do, and she’s off the bus before she knows it. She bids the driver goodbye and notices that the lights in the diner are already on. Marvin must have come in early, too.

The bell rings as she opens the door, and she sees Jason’s head pop up from behind the front counter. His face lights up.

“Hey, Delia!” He says.

She smiles at him. “Hey, Jason. You seem to be having a good morning.”

“I am! Dad usually doesn’t let me help him make the orange juice, but today he let me squeeze some,” Jason tells her.

“That’s pretty exciting, Jason,” Cordelia replies. “You know, if you want, you can help me bake today’s pies.”

Jason thinks on this for a moment, but he ultimately shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. I’ve worked too hard already today.”

Cordelia giggles. “I understand completely, kiddo.”

“Hey!” Jason snaps. “I’m not a kid! My bar mitzvah is only two hundred and eighty-four days away.”

Cordelia feigns apology. “Oh, please forgive me, young man. If only I had known!”

She leaves Jason alone to his own devices and walks into her pantry. It’s not _her_ pantry, per se, but it seems she’s the only one that’s ever in there.

Cordelia really loves talking to Jason. He has a strange sort of intelligence for a twelve-year-old boy. He’s probably the smartest person in their small town. His dad is the aloof and quiet type, which is one of the reasons he and Jason’s mom, Trina, didn’t work out. Trina is excitable and affectionate, the yang to Marvin’s yin.

Then again, the biggest reason Trina and Marvin didn’t work out was probably because Marvin’s gay. When he told her a few years ago, she didn’t even blow up. It was like she just always knew. And Cordelia supposes that their dynamic was complicated and taboo from the very beginning, because despite being divorced for three years, Trina still works in the diner he manages and they both go to Jason’s parent-teacher conferences together.

Despite it all, Cordelia can’t help but feel that Trina still has lingering feelings for Marvin. Where he’s had a string of noncommittal lovers, Trina’s been alone this whole time. Maybe it can be chalked up to Trina’s feminist attitude like she always claims so, but Cordelia knows her too well to believe this. Trina doesn’t operate that way. She likes the companionship. But she’s still not over Marvin, and Cordelia thinks that not even she realizes it.

Cordelia is pulled out of her thoughts when the oven dings. She realizes that she was so lost in her inner monologue that she had managed to make a whole pie automatically. She silently thanks her mother for teaching her everything she knows and pulls the pie out. She gives herself a pat on the back when she smells the blueberry and bacon mixing together. She loves using ingredients people wouldn’t usually put together and seeing patrons’ faces when they take their first taste.

She slices the pie into eighths and places it into its own display case. She makes her way to the front of the diner to set the pie up in the arrangement. She writes “Deep Dish Blueberry Bacon” on the special board and admires her own work from afar.

The bell on the door rings again and she turns to see Whizzer and Trina making their way into the diner. Trina was giggling and snorting at whatever Whizzer had just said, and Whizzer seemed very proud of himself.

“Hey, y’all,” Cordelia smiles at her friends. “What’s so funny?”

“I was telling her all about my latest gay bar exploits,” Whizzer says. “Care to hear?”

Cordelia looks over at Jason, whose got his nose stuck in a book. “I don’t think now is the best time. Virgin ears are near,” she says.

Whizzer nods and goes behind the counter to grab their aprons. He tosses Trina and Cordelia theirs, and the three tie them in unison. They pull out the table map of the restaurant and draw out their sections for the day. Cordelia bites the bullet this time and takes the section with one less table. She knows how much Whizzer needs the money and she doesn’t mind being short one table.

The clock strikes nine and the patrons start entering like clockwork. The three of them have worked together for years now, and the way they don’t even have to communicate aloud shows that. One look from Trina and Cordelia knows that she needs help with a drink order; another look from Whizzer and she knows to get more syrup for one of his tables. They all have a system, and there’s no two people in the world that Cordelia would rather work with. Even if Whizzer’s a little bitchy sometimes, and Trina will cry if a customer raises his voice at her.

However, Cordelia has not been as helpful today as she usually is. It seems whenever she’s needed most, she’s got to run off to the bathroom. Whizzer and Trina notice this, too, and once breakfast rush is over they corner her into the bathroom.

Whizzer is following Trina in, but he stops in his tracks when he hears Marvin clear his throat. He turns around to see Marvin with his arms folded across his chest and one hip out. Whizzer’s about to make a smart comment, but Marvin beats him to it.

“Whizzer,” he says, “You can’t go into the ladies’ room, even if you spend as much time on your hair as one of them.”

“Shut up, Marvin,” Whizzer replies. “Gender is a social construct.”

Whizzer can tell Marvin doesn’t have a witty retort, because he just narrows his eyes at the younger man. Whizzer sticks his tongue out at him and steps into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

Inside the bathroom, however, there isn’t such a laid-back, flirty attitude.

Whizzer stands in front of the door, arms crossed. Cordelia tries to make her way past him, but he stands still and blocks her path.

“You guys, I have to get back to my table!” she protests.

“Your last group just payed,” Whizzer reminds her.

“Well, I still have to bus it!” Cordelia retorts.

“It can wait, sweetie,” Whizzer says, reaching into his front pocket and pulling out a box. “Right now, it’s time to pee on a stick!”

Cordelia gasps and yanks the pregnancy test out of his hands. She throws it to the ground. “What are you talking about? I am _not_ pregnant!”

Trina steps in. “Then how come you’re peeing eighty times a day?”

Cordelia rolls her eyes. “I don’t know! Maybe I’ve got a UTI or something…”

Whizzer bends over and picks up the test. “Well, if you’re so sure it’s just a UTI, take the test.”

Cordelia doesn’t have another retort, so she snatches the box out of Whizzer’s hand and opens it up. She stomps her way into a stall and prepares the test.

“I hope you drank enough this morning!” Trina says, way too cheerfully for the situation at hand.

It’s awkward getting the stick positioned. Cordelia feels icky. There must be a better way to do this that doesn’t involve getting piss in your palm. When she’s done, she wipes her hands with toilet paper and exits the stall.

Whizzer takes the test from her with pinched fingers and sets it on the sink before he starts an egg timer for three minutes.

“Maybe his _machinery_ is broken somehow! What if his _boys_ don’t swim? Miraculous luck!” Trina’s attempts at making Cordelia feel better were not working.

“Yeah, _miraculous,_ Trin.” Cordelia says. “Funny how one night can ruin your whole life.”

Whizzer’s face softens, and he rubs Cordelia’s back. “Hey, don’t go there yet. We still don’t know what the tests says,” he tells her.

Cordelia tries to take his advice. She takes deep breaths.

“Wait a minute,” Trina says. “I thought you don’t sleep with your husband much anymore…”

Cordelia sighs and shakes her head. “He got me drunk… I do stupid things when I drink, like sleep with my husband.”

Whizzer’s jaw tightens when he realizes the implications of what Cordelia just said. “I swear to God, I’ll kill him, Cordelia.”

Cordelia waves him off. “No, no, Whizzer. It’s fine. It has to be fine, especially if this says what I think it’s gonna say.” She gestures to the test over on the sink.

Whizzer and Trina put their hands on Cordelia’s shoulders, and the three of them stay like that, all focusing on the negative.

The three are pulled out of their own thoughts when the harsh ticking of the egg timer goes off.

Trina and Whizzer look at each other, then at Cordelia, who is staring straight ahead.

“That means the test is ready…” Cordelia says dumbly.

Whizzer nods.

“This is it.” Trina whispers.

Cordelia turns and walks over to the sink. She picks up the thin stick and takes a deep breath. She looks down to examine two blue lines.

“Shit.”

Whizzer gasps, and Trina’s eyes widen. Cordelia stands still, not knowing what to do. Shouldn’t she be ecstatic? Or shouldn’t she be angry? Or sad? Or happy?

Shouldn’t she at least feel something at all?

Trina crosses over to give Cordelia a hug, but Cordelia stops her.

“No, no. Not right now. If we hug right now we’re both gonna cry, and we’ve still got lunch rush to worry about.”

Trina nods and backs away. Whizzer holds out his hand and takes the test from her, and he sticks it back in his pocket.

“I’ll go throw this away out back, so no one sees it and gets suspicious if it’s in the garbage in here…”

And with that, Whizzer walks out. He’s never been one to talk about his feelings much.

Cordelia could tell all Trina wanted to do was hug her, but she refrains. She settles for a squeeze of Cordelia’s hand and offers to leave, so Cordelia can have some privacy.

“No, no. I’ll walk out with you. I’ve got to get a grip on this.” Cordelia says.

Trina gives her and another squeeze and walks out of the bathroom in front of her. Cordelia thinks the rest of the day might be just fine, but the sight she sees upon entering the dining area completely destroys that notion.

Charles is sitting in the middle of room at a table, newspaper splayed out in front of him and legs spread out like he owns the place. Cordelia fights the urge to roll her eyes and puts on her good wife persona.

“Charlie!” she says, smiling. She crosses over to him, and she can feel Trina’s worried look on her back. “What are you doing here?”

Charles snorts like a pig before he answers. “What? I can’t see my hot piece of ass on my lunch break?”

Cordelia sighs and decides not to answer him. “You want some pie? Today’s is real good. Deep Dish Blueberry Bacon.”

“I guess I’ll take a slice,” Charles is indifferent, as always.

Cordelia turns to go get it, but Charles grabs her wrist to stop her. She’s embarrassed about how loud her gasp turns out to be. It causes everyone else to the diner to glue their eyes on her with concern.

“No, no,” Charles says, “You stay here and talk to me. Have your fairy friend get me my pie,” he gestures to Whizzer who has been watching them from the counter.

Cordelia turns to ask Whizzer politely, but it seems that he heard Charles’s comment. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are practically on fire, but he moves to get Charles his pie anyway. Cordelia is infinitely grateful, and she just wants to cry. Whizzer shouldn’t have to hear that shit in his own place of work.

Her friend sets the slice of pie down on the table in front of Charles and hands him a fork.

“Enjoy your pie,” Whizzer says. Cordelia can tell he wants to flatten Charles’s ass right here in the middle of the dining room.

Charles takes a bite out of the pie and moans loudly. Cordelia wants to be able to take it as the compliment it’s meant to be, but it just makes her uncomfortable.

“This is great, babe,” Charles says.

Cordelia’s face lights up. “That’s the last piece!” she tells him, “It sold out so fast today…”

“Whoa, now,” Charles says, “Don’t go getting a big head on me now. This is good, but you’re no Sara Lee.”

Cordelia clenches her jaw. All she wants to do is cry.

“You used to tell me my pies were good enough to open my own shop…” she says, hoping against hope that the old Charles may shine through, just this once.

“Yeah,” Charles says, “But I was just trying to get laid.”

Cordelia imagines what it would be like if she just packed up her things now and left him. Take this baby that’s in her along for the ride and find a new life. She _could_ open up her own pie shop somewhere. She and the baby could be happy together, far away from Charles.

“Cordelia…” she hears someone say her name, but it sounds so far away.

She would name the pie shop after herself. Something cute and sweet. “Cordelia’s Pie Heaven,” or “Cordelia’s Pastry Palace.” It’d be cutesy, all baby pink and blue. It’d smell like vanilla on the inside.

“Cordelia!” She’s snapped out of her fantasies by Charles’s harsh voice.

“Are you even listening to me?” He asks her. “I work so hard for us, and you can’t even listen to me?”

Cordelia shakes her head, whisking away the last of her previous thoughts. She leans in close to Charles.

“I’ll work on it,” she says.

It’s empty and means next to nothing. But it’ll shut Charles up.

She wonders how her baby will turn out. It’ll grow up putting up with Charles’s bullshit just like Cordelia has always had to. She imagines running away, like she did earlier.

But, of course, that won’t happen. She’ll stay in this town forever. Bending to Charles’s every will with a baby to worry over, too.

She bids Charles goodbye with a kiss on the cheek and walks back to her pantry. She prepares to bake the pies for the lunch rush, imagining all the different avenues she can take. Make it sweet and crimp the edges? Or make it sour and serve with lemon wedges?

Cordelia loves baking. It’s the only thing that’s ever made sense to her. It’s what brought her and her mother close. It’s what she can find solace in when the world is just too much. She can bake all of her worries into a pie, and when she serves it, all of her doubts and fears can live on someone else’s plate for a while.

And that’s what she’ll do. Cordelia knows she can fix this. She can make the most of her life, despite the train wreck it seems to be heading towards. She’s done it before. It’s exactly what her mother taught her to do.

“Bake you a door to help you get through,” she remembers her mother telling her.

She feels a hot tear roll down her cheek. She closes her eyes.

She whispers to herself what she used to always say when she and her mother would bake together.

“Mama, it’s amazing what baking can do.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! kudos and comments are appreciated!!!


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